


Slow dancing to a fast-beating heart

by mrsmischief



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friendship, Public Sex, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsmischief/pseuds/mrsmischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt by particularscarf on Tumblr: "Write a smut scene. Make it your goal for the scene to be the hottest thing you’ve ever written; make it a scorcher. Write the interaction using any parts of the body that aren’t obviously sexual. No intercourse, no buttsex, no nipple play. Get creative. See if you  can get your characters off through stimulation to.. I dunno, the inside of the knee. Back of the neck. Toe-sucking. Use your imagination."</p>
<p>My best try, perhaps with slight alterations. Starts off with Tom having dinner with his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow dancing to a fast-beating heart

"Would you like to dance?"

Tom's question brought you back into the moment you were living, back from the daydream you had accidentally slipped in. His blue-green eyes were full of warmth as he looked at you, waiting for an answer. You had been enjoying a tasty dinner and an even more delightful conversation with him, as well as a glass or two of fine wine. You felt happier than you had in ages.

Your current life was filled with activity, as was his, and the catching up was much needed. He had just returned from a long film shoot on the other side of the world - the tan on his usually so pale skin was enough of a telltale - and your new job at one of the biggest film magazines in the country had kept you more than busy. Tonight was the first night in what felt like forever when you could simply sit down with your friend, talk, laugh, and catch up with what was going on in your lives.

The topics of your conversation had been diverse, as usual. You had started with appetizers and simple things, nibbling on the different types of cheese, olives and bread you had ordered to share. You talked about travelling, laughing at the buzz of busy airports and people who were always in too much of a rush -  _when did they enjoy life?_  -, then he told you about his new film, or as much as he was allowed to, anyway, while you bored him with the accounts of your much more monotonous life at the office. The job was a dream come true for you, but somehow you found your stories less interesting than his. Tom, however, listened with enthusiasm, nodding and making small comments in the right places, eyes fixed on you as you spoke. You never felt boring in his company, never felt like he wasn't interested in what you had to say.

Between finishing the Roquefort and ordering the Merlot, the topic of conversation had changed from daily life to ancient philosophers, classic literature, and then to the most recent episode of  _The Apprentice_. You didn't agree on who should win, but that was alright; even debates with Tom were fun, since it forced you to think of proper arguments to back up your own opinion.

When the main course arrived, you were already aware of the secret your mind had kept even from yourself. You were listening to him telling you about why Indiana Jones was one of his childhood heroes, and you could see not much had changed: the boy was still there, in him, in the animated gestures and happy grins and the glow on his cheeks. Sometime during the explanation he looked at you, smiling that irresistible smile at you, and that was when you knew: you were, slowly but surely, falling for him.

You knew you would be better off as just friends, you knew how difficult a relationship with an actor could be (you had heard enough about his previous girlfriends who hadn't all taken it all that well), how even attempting to be anything more might ruin the wonderful friendship you had... But, as you let your eyes rest on the man sitting opposite you, on the tight curls of his hair and his happy face and lively appearance, you knew it was too late to stop it. You were in love. With your  _fucking best friend_.

And then, with the perfect  _crème brûlée_ , you realised it would have to, at least for now, stay as your private secret. It hadn't been all that long since Tom had broken up with the girl he had been planning to propose to, and as far as you knew, he was still heartbroken. You didn't want to place the burden of this on him, too, to make things awkward between you two. Perhaps it was only a fleeting crush, something that was destined to arrive at some point when you were friends with such an amazing, handsome, charming man like Tom, but would also fade after a while? Perhaps, if you just waited and didn't act on it, it would go away?

And now, now he was offering you his hand, not in marriage but perhaps in  _marriage of minds_ , anyway, and you had to open your mouth and say something. Since he knew your love for dancing, you only had one choice.   
"Yes, I'd love to."

His pleased expression was reward enough, even though your fluttering heart tried to warn you:  _don't get any deeper into it, you'll break not just one but two hearts_. You stood up from your almost-too-softly padded chair, taking the hand he had extended.

Tom led you into the empty dance floor of the almost empty restaurant. A few other people were dining there, too, but none of them seemed to even notice you as you moved into the more spacious area reserved for sure steps and unsure hearts. His hands felt warm against your skin as one moved onto your hip, the other holding yours in the air, his darkened eyes fixed on yours. The music was slow, and soon you were cradled in the belief that nothing else existed, only you and him in that dimly lit restaurant.

You swayed in small circles, silent for a change, as he led you and you happily followed. Before you even noticed, your bodies had pressed closer, tighter against each other, as if yearning for more. Your eyes asked the question your lips couldn't, and he simply nodded, unable to speak, too.

"Tom, I-"  
"I've been thinking-"  
You began at the same time in hushed whispers, as if still afraid of really  _saying_ it. When you realised you were going to say the exact same thing, you both let out a relieved chuckle, eyes turning away for a split of a moment, only to return on each other, this time more serious, full of purpose and need.

"Do you think it could... We could..?" he asked, his voice uncertain but glimmering with hope.  
"I don't know..." you replied, just as hesitant.   
"But I guess there's only one way to find out?"

After that, no words were necessary. His reply was purely physical; his body pressing more into you, his lips finding yours. The kiss you shared, your first ever with him, was slow and gentle, just like the dance your bodies were still performing, without your minds really noticing. His lips felt soft, his tongue unfamiliar as it began its own dance with yours...

The sensations you felt were new, strange but good, as he pulled you in even closer, his breath hot in your mouth. Your fingers pressed deeper into his shoulder, your hand leaving his as it found his curls, tugging on them as a way to ask for more. When he finally pulled back he looked at you, eyes burning with desire and breathing heavy.   
"I've loved you since the day we met, I just never realised..." he whispered, but you pressed a finger onto his lips, asking him to stay quiet.   
"No words, please, not yet..." you pleaded him. You needed time, time to figure it all out and understand that yes, he really liked you back, that it all had turned to better so abruptly. Time and silence, that's what you needed. And him...

You leaned back in for another kiss, this time knowing what to expect - or so you thought. With the smallest touch of your lips on his, he pulled back, chuckling. You tried again, but he kept teasing you, the dance leading you into a more private corner of the restaurant until you were almost alone, as far from everyone else as you could be without hitting the wall or knocking down a table or two.

Now, only now, he allowed you to kiss him again, leaning down and claiming your lips, the lips he had wanted to kiss for too long, the lips he had always known should be his, only his. His arms wrapped around your body, keeping you close as you still turned, turned, turned, like the hands of a clock that now seemed to be going too fast, fast, fast, ending your evening all too soon, sooner than he wanted.

When your lips parted again, he smiled at you briefly, then moved his mouth on your neck, planting light kisses along the soft skin there, until he reached your shoulder. His fingers caressed the skin at the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, releasing a shaky breath as his mouth sucked on the tender skin on your shoulder, and you couldn't help but imagine you two, engaged in similar activities, but without the distraction of other people, without the impediment of clothes, just you two and your bodies and your carnal desire and the bed sheets crumpling under your bodies as he would enter you, new and so familiar at the same time, your sweaty skin on his, moving against each other and getting closer and closer...

You were brought back into the moment by his teeth sinking into your flesh, not to hurt but to send a jolt of electricity straight into your core, and you gasped, your eyes flying open, only to be greeted by his mischievous smirk that reminded you so much of that one role of his... But before that thought could get any further attention, his lips clashed into yours again, demanding your full concentration. He was getting bolder, demanding more, but you were willing to give it all, to give your everything to him, only for him.

His teeth gently tugged on your lower lip, and now you were unable to hold back the moan as you could  _feel_  the wetness between your legs, your body preparing for him, for the only thing that would naturally follow such actions... But no, not yet.

His mouth moved by your ear, whispering breathy compliments and confessions in your ear while his fingers travelled on your skin (thank god for dresses with open back...). For a quick moment you worried about the other people in the room, wondering what they thought was happening, but then realised it only looked like you were still dancing, or perhaps embracing; nothing unusual, in other words.

"I never realised, but... It was always you, you, only you." His voice was like honey, honey you wanted to drown in and suck from your fingertips as more was being poured on you.   
"You were what I was looking for, in all those other girls... I never knew what I tried so hard to find was right there, in front of me... What a fool I was."

His fingers were by the nape of your neck, beginning their slow descent on your spine, making your body quiver with need with each inch they travelled.  
"A fool who didn't appreciate what he already had..."

You wanted to say something, to tell him you had been as big a fool as him, but his fingertips distracted you, and instead you pressed more against him, kissing his throat right by his Adam's apple.   
"Please, Tom..." your voice was scarcely a whisper. No, it wasn't even a whisper, it was a plea, a barely audible plea. You  _needed_  him. Now...

"I should have seen it, seen  _you_ , you were right there, always for me, always there when I needed you... Please tell me it's not too late? Please..." he voiced his own request, and you shook your head violently as his fingers pressed harder against your lower back, pushing your body so tightly against him that you might as well been one, a Siamese twin connected by love and desire.

"It's not..." you panted, and you could  _hear_  the smile in his relieved exhale before he kissed your neck again, thanking you with his lips. You would have returned the gesture more than happily, but before you could he licked your ear with the tip of his tongue, making your thighs tremble and fingernails dig into his suit jacket so deep that you were sure the Armani would soon be worth nothing, as it would have holes in the shoulders caused by friendship, love and lust, lust,  _lust_...

If it had been possible, you would have asked him to stop there, right there before it was too late, but as your current state was more of the trembling and panting kind, you couldn't, and it was too late, too late to stop him as he kissed you below your ear, then gently tugged on your earlobe with his teeth, and you felt another shock of electricity shoot right down to your core, this time forcing you to come undone in his arms, while his lips returned to yours, soothing and gentle as you trembled and moaned into his mouth.

When it was all over and you were back to normal (even though that, my dear, was a lie: you would never be back to normal after  _that_ ), you shared one more kiss before sharing the bill, too, like you always did; and then the taxi to his place. He tried to insist on paying that, but some things can't be changed, right? So you shared.

And then, right there, in front of the fireplace in his living room, you got to know each other in a whole new way, sharing and  _baring_  it all. 


End file.
